Dashain Dinner

When you think of October, you probably recall the crisp fall weather, the autumn trees shedding vibrant gold, amber, orange and red leaves, or Halloween. My mind, however, wanders to Dashain, a fall harvest celebration in Nepal and neighboring South Asian countries. Every year for Dashain, we host a big celebration at our house, where our extended family gathers for a weekend of festivities, religious Dashain tika ceremony, fun gambling and Nepali food, which is my favorite part of the weekend. 

Due to COVID, the number of family and guests present decreased this year. However, it was still a very fun weekend. 

I love spending time with my aunts, uncles and cousins. And this year, I also paid attention to what was being cooked and served.

Food is a huge part of the festivities and a lot of work, thought and enjoyment goes into its preparation. We celebrate the uniqueness of Nepali food, and as much of my family is scattered across the world, we make it a point to make and eat Nepali food when we gather. Food brings us together, transports us back to our childhood, and the places, dishes and experiences that connect us all. So this month, rather than making the food myself, I chose to observe the makings of traditional Nepali dishes and learn from them.

My mother orchestrates every meal for Dashain -- from early morning breakfast to lunch, to mid-afternoon snacks, to dinner, to late-night nibbles. She starts preparing days in advance, not just making enough for the weekend to feed all the visiting relatives, but also snacks for their road trip back and edible goodies they can take home with them. And she always makes a little extra, that serves as leftovers for us to enjoy. I am lucky to be able to experience the full Nepali Dashain meal every year at  my own home.

FURANDANA

Furandana is a puffed rice snack that is popular in Nepal. Think of it as savory granola, sold in separate bags like a bag of chips would be. But in my house, and my grandparents’ house, I always recall it as home made and in huge batches. From when I was born till I was a year old, we lived in Nepal, then up until I was about five we lived in Pakistan and made frequent visits to Nepal. I grew up spending days, sometimes months in my mamaghar (my grandparents' house) where my grandmother would make all kinds of snacks for my sister and I. 

I have distinct memories of my grandmother mixing pounds of ingredients to put together her perfect furandana, which I constantly snacked on. She still lives in Nepal and cooks Nepali food every day. I plan on visiting her next summer, and happily devouring authentic Nepali food every single day. 

My mom still goes back to her mother's recipes when making Nepali food. To make furandana, she  gathers the ingredients: beaten rice, split yellow chickpeas, raw peanuts, dehydrated potatoes, pappadum, red  chiles, sliced ginger, and a mixture of salt and spices. She deep-fries each of these separately, allowing them to cool in open containers lined with paper towels. Then she makes her spice mix -- eyeballing salt, black pepper, cumin and chilli powder. She then puts them all together, hand mixing them thoroughly into the savory-granola-like combination. This is really the only two steps, however, all the separate frying of each of the ingredients makes it an overwhelming amount of work. 

Furundana is a fan-favorite during Dashain. I find myself constantly going back to get a bowl, or at very desperate times, just taking handfuls from the container. Everyone has the same idea, it seems. It was fun to see the full furandana container gradually emptying over the course of the weekend.

SEL ROTI

Sel roti, simply referred to as sel, is a traditional Nepali snack. Think of it as a sweet and hearty snack typically enjoyed with tea at home. 

Sel intrigues foreigners to Nepal because of its ring-shape and sweet rice taste. Many think of it as Nepali donut. While it is deep fried like the donut, it is however not as sweet as a donut and has a very different texture because it is made of rice flour rather than wheat flour.

I watch intently as my mom makes sel. Unlike furundana, the process itself for making sel is layered. It needs special equipment to give it its shape. My mom starts by soaking rice overnight, and grinding the soaked rice with ghee and sugar in a wet grinder, an equipment made up of granite wheels that rotate inside a metal drum with the help of an electric motor.

When it is all ground up and blended, the batter is white and viscous. You would never imagine that this batter  will turn into the dark brown rings of sel that is the final product. 

To make sel my mom has a whole set up. This consists of a large outdoor camp stove, a deep pan, a few large spatulas and long campfire sticks. She places a giant bowl full of sel batter next to the stove and scoops the batter with a special container which her mother, our grandmother, sent her from Nepal. The container is curved but has a narrow opening to regulate the thickness of each sel ring. She calls it her Kuccheko Kachaura -- literally bent bowl! She uses the two long campfire sticks  to take the sel out of the boiling oil without burning herself. Then she lines a large basket with paper towels. The basket is used to hold the sel, and the paper towels to absorb some of the oil from the deep fried sel.

Then, the magic happens. 

My mom starts by scooping out a substantial amount of batter with her bent bowl. The stove is already up and running by this point, with the oil bubbling away. She uses the bowl to pour a  ring of batter into the hot oil. My mom is proud that after all of these years she has perfected her technique. Making sel is known to be laborious because you can only make one sel each time. However, she has gotten so good at it, that she can work fast and fit three whole sels in the pan, dramatically decreasing the time needed to make them. 

Once the sel has fried for a few minutes, she flips it over, and then after a few more minutes, takes it out of the oil with her campfire sticks. To accomplish this, she carefully picks up each sel with the sticks, placing both in the center of each sel and then lifting them up to about the halfway point of both sticks.

She does this with each sel, making a kind of cross formation with her sticks, and holding them at an angle such that the ones already lifted from the oil will not fall off. Once she’s scooped up all three, she puts them in the basket to cool and so that they lose some of the oil dripping off them. 

It also looks like a difficult process to master. Managing to pour the batter over hot oil without burning herself, not dripping any oil onto herself, dropping the sel back into the oil, and balancing each one onto the sticks seems virtually impossible. Yet somehow, my mom accomplishes each task effortlessly, pulling it all off with a panache, for the extended family to enjoy.

TIKA

Tika is not a food necessarily, but it is a major part of our celebration, and I had to include it. During Dashain, elders place tika onto each person's forehead and place jamara (barley sapling) on their hair, while giving them blessings of abundance in the coming year, accompanied by a small Dakshina (present of money). The red also symbolizes the blood that ties the family together. This tika ritual brings family together annually and helps renew the ties that bind us together. 

After all these years, I never really thought about what tika is made up of and how each element of our dashain celebration is so layered. Tika is made up of yogurt, grains of newly harvested rice and sugar mixed with vermillion red powder. The consistency is a little gooey, but clumps together easily so that it can be placed upon each person’s forehead and stays there.

DASHAIN DINNER

The highlight of the weekend, in my opinion is the Dashain meal. Each year, every family member participates in making food for our meal, creating a sort of potluck full of different flavors and techniques. The smell wafting from the table into my nose is enough to make my mouth water. The table is almost a cornucopia with how much food is laid out. But I never complain, because it tastes heavenly and makes for excellent leftovers for the next few weeks.

Each year, I fill up my plate completely, leaving no empty room. In fact, I even go back for seconds and even thirds to try everything on the table. It is always full of color, from the deep orange curry to the bright yellow aloo, to the dark green sag, there is no lack of diversity in my plate.

There are lots of elements that make up our Dashain meal. While I couldn't possibly dive into each one, I thought I’d attempt to describe my plate. 

Goat curry is a favorite amongst the cousins. My uncle, Marga, makes this curry every year, marinating the goat hours in advance,  and then cooking the meat with ginger, garlic, onion and tomatoes that my aunts have peeled, diced and minced. Once the gravy starts to mix and bubble, he adds other dry garam masala spices. Goat curry is typically a central focus of our Dashain meals. The rich flavor, including all of the spices, and the wonderfully tender meat makes for a delicious celebration staple.

Saag is another element of our Dashain plate. Saag is always made by my aunt Sarala. Saag is  typically made up of spinach and other young green leaves. This isn’t necessarily popular amongst the younger kids who detest cooked leafy vegetables. However, as I grew up around saag, I eventually started to get a taste for it. The bitterness is complemented by a nutty flavor which I really enjoy, and in some cases, for really good saag, I even go back to get seconds. 

And the dish I can’t not include is daal bhat. This is really two dishes, however, they’re almost always eaten together, and at this point, are regarded as one meal. Daal is a lentil soup. It's pretty simple to make, and has great variability, as there are all kinds of daal. Kalo (black) and pahelo (yellow) daal are the most commonly enjoyed. Bhat is simply rice. It's typically eaten with dal to make a filling meal, and together, it's the perfect combination. For Dashain my mom makes Kalo Daal -- black lentil cooked in an iron pot over low heat with tarro pieces. 

Finally, there is aloo. Aloo simply means potatoes. However, when I say potatoes, I’m not just talking about plain potatoes, but rather masala seasoned potatoes. They typically are a little spicy and made with turmeric which really draws out the flavor. Potatoes can be enjoyed in many different ways. We use them in the Dashain meal with jackfruit, rice, and dal. 

A very special place in the Dashain meal is occupied by khandeko kakro ko achar — fermented cucumber pickle. My aunt Upama makes and brings them all the way from Ohio, where she starts on them as soon as the Dashain invites go out. Chunks of cucumber pickle, when it is fermented with mustard seeds, chili pepper, salt and turmeric , has a satisfying crunch that my extended family says takes them back to Dashain in Nepal.

I really enjoyed this weekend because I got to delve into my own culture and explore the layers behind foods I’d been eating since childhood. I came to respect Nepali cuisine, culture, and cooking so much more. Breaking each meal down into its components and process made me realize how difficult it is to actually make each meal.

I gained so much more respect for my mother and the Nepali women in my life. Nepali women typically do the cooking in the house, and it's a point of great pride for them. I have seen this first hand with my mom, who works relentlessly to perfect her recipes and make delicious meals to be enjoyed with family and friends. Although I have always enjoyed the end product, the journey is just as interesting, and I really enjoyed the opportunity to explore it and celebrate it this year.